


Unfinished Business

by ilikecheesemaybe, SuckItStrider



Category: Benjaminutes - Fandom, The Riftdale Chronicles (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Gen, So much angst, benjaminutes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-04 22:15:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14029965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilikecheesemaybe/pseuds/ilikecheesemaybe, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuckItStrider/pseuds/SuckItStrider
Summary: But you've got blood your hands and I know it's mineI just need more time





	Unfinished Business

Slowly opening the door, Smith pokes his head into Chief’s office, and sees him hunched over his desk, an open bottle of whiskey at his side. He’s told him that leaving open bottles of Jack Daniels around isn’t good, and drinking straight from the bottle as well, but he doesn’t always listen. It’s okay though! Sometimes people just need little reminders!

Quietly slipping into the room, Smith picks up the bottle, and brings it over to the filing cabinet, putting it up on the top, and tries to find the cap.

“Who the fuck is it now?” Chief grumbles, his words slurring, barely comprehensible.

Laughing to himself, Smith quickly ducks behind a filing cabinet, and makes a few ghostly noises. Peeking his head back out, he sees Chief confused, gazing around like he has no clue where the noises came from. That’s weird, he’s definitely done this before, had he drunk too much again? Well, he’ll remember eventually, he always does!

Sneaking up from the shadows, he uses all his cool police skills to slip under the desk, and just barely peeks his head out to see Chief. He continues to gaze at his last hiding place, his face perturbed and a little fearful. Wow, he really must've drank a lot of booze, Smith would have to give him a friendly reminder to stop doing these things once he sobered up.

He waves his hand around, almost in a jazz hands sort of way, and peeks up again. Chief isn’t even looking in his direction, he’s still looking around at the filing cabinet.

Weird.

It’s almost like he was invisible, which can’t be right, can it? Had he made a pun about being invisible lately? He didn’t think so.

Chief's eyes dart around, and he calls out “Is someone there? If so, show yourself or be faced with the full extent of the law.” 

A second afterwards, just barely audible, Chief whispers to himself, “Why tonight? Couldn't it have been literally any other night?”

Chief shakily pulled out his sidearm, and began roving the room, but his hands shake too much, and he drops it to the ground. In horror, he gazes at his own hands, and tears began spilling from his eyes.

“Chief? Are you ok? Do you need any help?”

Shocked, Smith quickly gets up from his hiding place, and tries to soothe him, but Chief falls to the ground, and begins crying heavier. His hands hover an inch or so above Chief’s shaking back, though he doesn’t quite know what to do. Chief has never, ever done this before, what happened? Did Smith do something? He won’t even acknowledge him, but what had he done?

“Chief! What’s wrong? What happened? Are you ok? Did someone get hurt? What’s going on? Did I do something wrong, Chief? Chief?”

Looking around the room, desperately searching for something he could use to sooth Chief, he spots the dropped gun again. 

“This is a safety hazard, Chief! Here let me get it for you.”

Picking up the gun, he sees one bullet missing.

Was that what had happened? Had Smith accidentally discharged his gun or something? He vaguely remembered making a joke about a gun, and a gunshot, but nothing other than that. 

Had he grabbed Chief’s gun by accident?

Why couldn’t he remember what had happened?

He gently placed the gun on the desk, when behind him Chief made a soft noise. Smith couldn’t quite tell what it meant, though. One of fear? A flash of panic shot through him, and he hugged his bare arms to himself. Huh, he was cold. The room wasn’t cold, but he was. Was that a side effect of his nerves?

Glancing back, he saw Chief looking up at him. His tears had momentarily stopped, and he had a look of pure terror plastered to his face.

“Smith? ‘S that you?”

Rushing back to his side, he nearly started crying himself, and in a move of pure instinct, cupped his hands around Chief’s face, tilting it up to meet his eyes. Chief sat, petrified, and tears streaked down his face once again.

“Chief, it’s me. I’m right here. I’m here. It’s ok.”

Seeing this man, the man who had protected him, mentored him, and helped him become a police officer terrified beyond belief broke his heart, and knowing it was entirely his fault was nearly too much to bear. Stumbling back, he removed his hands, and Chief nearly fell back, still terror-stricken. 

This wasn’t right. 

This couldn’t be right!

Smith must’ve done something terrible to be treated like this, and he wished, truly, deeply, to know what he had done.

But he still came up blank.

“C-Chief, I’ll just leave! It’s going to be ok. All ok! Everything is going to be ok! Everything is safe. I-uh I’ll just go now!” Smith stuttered out.

Staggering back through the doorway, Smith's eyes begin to cloud over, and his head began spinning.

He begins to really cry, now.

Why couldn't he remember? What had he done? Why had this happened? Had he hurt Chief? He must have, otherwise why would he be so terrified of him?

The tears from his left eye become viscous and gooey, and suddenly he can't see at all from that side.

Reaching up, trembling, his hands come back sticky. 

The liquid cascades down his face, filling his mouth with the taste of metal and spilling over onto his shirt and the floor.He sputters, but more foul-tasting ichor filled his mouth, choking him, drowning him.

In the time it takes for him to fall to the ground, he's already unconscious.  
.  
.  
.  
Slowly opening the door, Smith pokes his head into Chief’s office, and sees him hunched over his desk, an open bottle of whiskey at his side. He’s told him that leaving open bottles of Jack Daniels around isn’t good, and drinking straight from the bottle as well, but he doesn’t always listen. It’s okay though! Sometimes people just need little reminders!


End file.
